First Prize
by Shaldana Blackwater
Summary: Rediculously silly one-shot of the general goofiness taking place at an alcohol-laden party celebrating the defeat of Voldemort.


_I rarely write humour, but the song, Drunken Scotsman wont get out of my head, so I do what I normally do when something wont get out of my head. Unfortunately, it resulted in this silly drabble. My apologies to everyone - maybe this is what happens when someone who usually writes darker fics falls over on to the lighter side of the tracks. Dont hurt me, okay? Also, I am not Scottish, but Irish, so if I messed up anywhere on the description of a kilt, dont flame me too badly._

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**First Prize**

The thunderous celebration party currently taking place in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was in full swing.  
A great deal of alcoholic beverages was being consumed with abandon, looks of pure joy replacing looks of fear on all of the faces. Even the snarky Potions Master was managing pseudo grins and half smiles.

The Weasley twins were at full mischievous power, gleefully setting off fireworks that chased party goers about the Great Hall. Even their mother was laughing at their antics. The twins were delighted in being able to wreak havoc that caused laughter again, rather than their pranks going to destruction, as they had for the past five years. The twins had turned their jokes in to clever little weapons and items that caused all sorts of devastation for the Death Eater armies. How ecstatic they were to have carte blanche to wreak havoc again!

Headmaster Dumbledores twinkle was powered up on full and the magical figures on his robes were dancing with each other, swinging and twirling around his body in beat to the music.

Various member of the Order of the Phoenix were scattered about in various activities. Some were just relaxing, revelling in being able to have a conversation without the anxiety of being interrupted by spies or enemy destruction. Others were joyously drinking themselves in to oblivion, happy that they could indulge without fear of attack. Most others were dancing with abandon, some with partners, some without it really did not matter that much. It was the release of joy, love and other emotions, long buried and carried under cloaks of fear.

Mundungus Fletcher was spinning a laughing McGonagall about in a dance that had little to do with the music being played. The Transfiguration professor had obviously tied a few on herself and with a chuckle and a quick wave of her wand, she transfigured Dung's robes in to a Scottish kilt, complete with all of the trimmings, including a sgian dubh, bow tie, Glengarry and ghillie brogues. Fletcher looked down at his new clothing and a drunken grin split his face. He broke in to what could only be translated in to a ridiculously drunken Highland dance, McGonagall laughing so hard she could do nothing but brace her hands on her knees or she would fall clean on to the floor.

Seamus Finnigan had an arm slung over both Ron and Hermione Weasley, trying to convince them of how much he really admired them and loved their courage and stamina in the war and wasnt it amazing how they survived? A more sober observer would realise that Hermione and Ron were doing more supporting of their drunken friend than anything else. The pair exchanged a knowing smirk and dragged their former schoolmate outside and deposited him in a thorn-free rosebush.

Harry Potter was beyond three sheets to the wind. At current, he was slobbering drunk, talking to a far less drunk, but still happy Mad-Eye Moody. Professor Flitwick staggered over towards them and chucked Harry with his fist.  
"Why look!" cried the tiny little Professor. "It's a man with a wooden leg named Moody!"

"Really?" replied Harry with a drunken giggle. "What's the name of his other leg?" Both Potter and Flitwick dissolved in to hysterical laughter.

Moody, realising he had been thoroughly set-up, rolled his eyes, but chuckled as he got up to find a more sober conversation. He glanced behind him to observe Harry slide off his chair and throw his arms around the Charms professor, both cackling in uproarious laughter, tears running down their faces. He didnt want to know how long those two had wanted to pull that rather pathetic joke off.

The festivities continued until the wee hours of the morning. McGonagall had long passed out from inebriation, as had others. Most had made it to their beds. Some were not as fortunate.

Several of the younger members had started an impromptu Quidditch match. Now, most know that booze and Quidditch really dont go that well together, but if you leave the bludgers out of it, you only have to worry about falling from your broom. There were a lot of sticking charms cast on brooms that night.

Charlie, Harry, Oliver, Tonks, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Bill, Lupin, and oddly enough, Snape had finally landed in a drunken tangle of body parts and broom sticks. Jokes about Oliver and his wooden broomstick were being earthily tossed back and forth between the men. The group started back to the castle, stumbling and laughing at each others antics. Dean and Charlie had  
Ginny propped up between the two of them, though the boys were not in any better shape than she. Ginny lurched, broke away from her escort and stumbled to the bush, and emptied her stomach. Her supportive friends laughed heartily at her, and before long, she had joined them in laughing at herself.

They started to stumble back to Hogwarts again, when Ginny paused. A confused frown crossed her face and she called out, Wait a tick! She went back to the bushes where she had spewed and looked at the bush next to it.  
"AHA!" she declared, and she started to giggle, while pointing at the ground. The rest of the group came over to see what was so funny. Lo and behold, in all his kilted glory, lay Mundungus Fletcher, clean passed out, snoring to beat anything, his pipe half hanging from his mouth.

"Aw, looks like Dung done died," quipped Seamus. The gang looked at their Irish friend as if he had started to spout Swahili.

Bill looked especially befuddled. "I can't believe you can even say that, considering the state are all in!"

"Which state, Oklahoma?" asked Ron. Hermione clipped him playfully on the back of the head, while Snape rolled his eyes, though there was a grin playing about his face.

"So," asked Harry. "What should we do with him? You know we just can't let this go. He's passed out! The whole situation is begging for something!"

Ginny started to giggle madly. "I know!" she said. She pulled her hair ribbon out of her hair. Tonks reached over to lift his kilt up. She knew where this was going, and she was giggling as hard as Ginny.

Snape turned and started walking back to the castle. "I can't watch. I simply can not. If I see nothing, I will know nothing." Lupin trotted off after the Potions Master, as Snape was not all that steady on his feet.

The rest of the group were all desperately trying not to burst out laughing. Tonks held up Fletchers kilt with one hand and held up his penis with the other hand. Harry pointed out to Tonks that there was no way she was touching him in the future without scrubbing her hands extremely well.

Ginny tied her blue hair ribbon around Dung's willie and Tonks dropped his kilt over it. The group continued back to the castle, their laughter no longer held back.

Several hours passed and finally the call of nature woke up Mundungus Fletcher. He stumbled to his feet and sought out a good spot to take a leak. Good thing the bush was so close! He lifted his kilt and saw the ribbon tied up in a bow. He stared at it for a moment, swaying drunkenly back and forth on his feet. Then a grin broke out and he chuckled.

"Well lad, I dont know where weve been tonight, but I see youve won first prize!" He promptly passed back out after relieving himself.

Ginny Weasley never did ask for her hair ribbon back.


End file.
